Identity Crisis
by RoseLight
Summary: Hawkeye is leading a double life, and needs Klinger's unique skills.


Identity Crisis

"You are WHO?

Hawkeye hung his head and repeated, "I am Jessica Louella Teasdale."

His usually unflappable partner was quite flapped. "YOU wrote 'Love's Lingering Light'?"

Now it was Hawkeye's turn to be surprised. "YOU read it?"

"Peg's been feeding me paragraphs of this tripe in her letters…all the gals in the neighborhood coffee klatch are reading it."

"Well, y'see that's my problem: success."

"How on earth-"

"It was one of those really, really dull patches. One of the nurses lent me this book," (actually, she chopped it into his ribs and exclaimed, "why can't you be romantic like this?" but Hawkeye chose to remember it differently) "-and I read it with two thoughts in mind: 1. Do women really think this way and 2. I could do better than this with one stethoscope tied behind my back. Anyway, y'know how I'm always wandering around here writing letters to my dad …"

"Yeah…?"

"Well, I'm not always writing letters to my Dad. I scribbled out this corny, incredible tale of Love Triumphant and sent the manuscript to an old pal as a gag... He has a dozen copies run off, you know, as a gag back on me. Here," he reached into his footlocker and pulled out a thick, glossy volume, and signed in it "for Peg, signed by the author. Anyway, his wife loves it. She starts a book group. They love it. And a gal in the book club has an uncle-in-law in publishing. …"

"And, he loves it."

"Actually, he hates it but he saw the market potential. He sent a contract to me, as dear Jessica's agent, and now it's in its third edition." He paused for smugness sake. "So, now the movie people are negotiating for the rights…"

"Congratulations. Who plays me?"

"But they insist on meeting Ol' Jessie Lou. You see my problem."

"Not really. Lots of writers use pen names. It shouldn't surprise them-"

"Not their problem, mine. Me, Hawkeye Pierce, writing Romance novels. Isn't that just a tad precious? Not to mention, all my best lines in public view…"

"And all the former girlfriends comparing notes…?"

"Exactly."

"But, you're also unwilling to sacrifice the ego gratification of all that fan mail, and the extra income."

Pierce waved his hand away. "The royalties aren't really that much. Turns out I'm a lousy agent."

"Exactly what do they want?"

"Lunch with the old gal."

"And do they know anything about her?"

"I've kept her pretty mysterious, no details, doesn't like publicity…"

"Then just arrange for a Jessica Teasdale. None of your harem willing to do you a vertical favor?"

"I can't even ask. Remember, the point is not to reveal Hawkeye Teasdale."

"All right, you need someone to play an eccentric fiction writer for an afternoon. Sounds like fun but I'm not your type. Hmmm… let's go see Klinger."

Xxxxxxx

"So, whatda-ya say, Klinger—two days in Tokyo?"

"Who do I have to kill…and how soon can I lure 'em to the mess tent?"

"Nah, nothing like that, just…uh...accompany me to lunch, meet a couple businessmen-"

"Sorry, Captain Pierce, I'm NOT that kinda guy."

"Hawk, we need to clarify the situation," BJ insisted

"Oh, no, no, no…"

"Hawkeye, Max can help you...and he's the soul of discretion."

Klinger's ears perked up. "It's true, Captain. Max Klinger works in mysterious ways…enlighten me, and allow me to weave my dessert magic in this khaki camp."

Hawkeye sighed. "The short version, Houdini, is I need a lady for the afternoon—"

"I'm out of that racket, O Captain, my Captain—"

Hawkeye shook his head and rose to leave. BJ pulled him back, and filled Max in.

"Consider it handled, Captains," Klinger said briskly. "Attend your luncheon in peace."

Xxxxx

Pierce was waiting anxiously at the elegant L'etoile in Tokyo, a place that befitted the image he had manufactured for his alter ego. He was entertaining his/her publisher, Carlton Bluefield, and two producers from Los Angeles.

"So, Dr. Pierce, you've known Miss Teasdale a long time?"

"Oh, yes, you might say I've made her what she is today. Encouraged her to publish, that is. Became her agent to help guide her career."

"Is she always late?" grumbled Barlow Jones of United Pictures.

"Gentlemen, it's a lady's prerogative, and to artists, mere time has little significance, don't you find?"

"You met this babe yet, Bluesfield?"

He hadn't, of course, but he was not going to play naked emperor in front of these West Coasties. "Yes, yes, charming little lady. Writes like a lil' dickens, too. Small D,' he snubbed the movie men. "We get stacks of fan mail from her faithful readers. She's one hot property."

A distinct hush fell over the afternoon crowd, then a palpable buzz. She appeared, a silken vision in peacock blue. Her sable hair was braided with blossoms.Her gaze swept slowly across the room, and she allowed herself to be escorted to their table. Her carriage was regal. All four gentlemen rose to their feet in competition to pull out her chair. Pierce was stunned. "Jessica" gave him a wink.

"Gentlemen," she nodded graciously, and spoke in a cool contralto that caused them to lean forward to catch her every syllable. "How kind of you to invite me."

"Our honor, Miss Teasdale. We understand you are usually reluctant to appear in public."

"So true. I am a homebody. But dear Ben convinced me to leave my cat and my coastal cottage, and take flight to the exotic Orient. For the sake of fresh inspiration, you understand." She covered a hand over his, and gazed up at him through her lashes.

Jones licked his lips. "May I ask you what inspired you to write?"

Exquisite sorrow shadowed her face. "Why, the great tragedy of my own lost love."

Where was she going with this? Hawkeye was getting nervous. Her instructions were to look dazzling and leave the conversational patter to him. "Uh, Jess, if this is too painful to share, we'll all understand," he said firmly.

"Oh, dear Benjamin, always so sensitive," she petted his sleeve. "Actually, it can serve one's heart good to unburden with such sympathetic souls…" and she proceeded to weave a tale of secrets and seduction, revenge and redemption and rapture, so that Pierce could barely keep his mouth from falling open in amazement. All four sets of eyes around the table never left her.

Lunch concluded with a lucrative contract for Hawkeye/Teasdale, and the doe-eyed appreciation of J. L. Teasdale. Each man left the meeting convinced he was the only man in the world who could mend the heart of American's newest literary sensation. She agreed to be available for some very limited promotion, and they agreed that keeping her a mystery would be a twist on the usual publicity.

After the businessmen left, Hawkeye scooted his chair closer to hers, set his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand and stared in frank amazement and admiration at the marvelous mystery woman. "I don't know who you are," he began, "but you saved both my careers, my romantic reputation, turned a near-disaster into a personal triumph and accomplished it all in magnificent style. I'd really like to get to know you, Jessie. Over supper…over breakfast…?"

"First of all, dear Ben, my name is Isabelle, and much as I appreciate your kind invitation, I have a previous engagement." She smiled and looked up to greet Max Klinger, who offered his arm.

"Klinger…? How…huh…?"

Isabelle gave Pierce a dazzling smile. "Are you kidding? All the USO girls trade Max's name around like a favorite lipstick. I'd do anything to score an original from the Klinger Collection…even lie through a lunch with you. Bye, darling Ben," she waved and blew him a kiss.

Klinger shrugged. "We entrepreneurs have to stick together, Captain. I may be a nut case, but I'm a capitalist nut case."

As the odd couple strolled into the sunset, Pierce began twisting in his mind the new plot for a sequel: Love's Exquisite Agony.

finis


End file.
